Tom Riddle and the Power of Friendship
by Ironypus
Summary: aka. 'The incurable chuunibyou of Lord Voldemort'- Ginny Weasley dies in the Chamber of Secrets, becoming something Tom Riddle never expected to be.
1. Chapter 1

"Ginny, please wake up!" some idiot shouted in my face as they shook me roughly. I irritatedly opened my eyes to behold the stupid visage of my greatest enemy. Or the other me's greatest enemy, I wasn't too sure where I stood with this. Anyway.

"Unh-" I squeaked. What? I looked down at my hands, I was still the girl. Why was I still the girl? Unless someone asked, then of course this had been my plan all along.

"Oh, thank goodness!" Potter hugged me. He actually hugged me. This enraged me for all of three seconds before I realised I was _still the girl_.

"W-what happened?" I stammered waveringly like a pathetic child who was also not particularly bright and had no real life goals. "Where am I?"

"You got taken by the Heir, we're in the Chamber of Secrets," his puerile voice caught. "We thought they killed you."

"Oh," I said. How did he get in here anyway, I knew he was somehow a Parseltongue, but how did he find the Chamber? I would have to change the passwords to avoid this in the future. Potter gave me a few more platitudes about how things were going to be ok before going to pick up his wand he had thrown away like a Muggle.

The second his back was turned Ginevra's wand was out and he was Imperiused. I eyed him shrewdly for a moment, this boy who had killed Lord Voldemort. I knew this because I had read every single book I could find on the matter, but none could offer the truth. But now?

"Tell me, boy, how did you vanquish Lord Voldemort?"

"I don't know," he said dully.

I rolled my eyes, because of course he didn't know. That would be too easy for me wouldn't it. My future self had been blown up by a toddler, and of course the boy had no idea how he'd done it.

"Do you know anything?" I sneered.

Potter stood silent for a moment. "Dumbledore said I'm alive because my mother died to save me."

Yes, I twirled Ginevra's wand idly. That did make sense, and for it to backfire on me so spectacularly the mother must have been dabbling in some powerful counter magic. Well, mystery solved, time to kill him.

I raised Ginevra's wand, then lowered it. "How _did_ you find this chamber?"

"Once we realised the monster was a Basilisk we asked Moaning Myrtle how she died, and she told us which sink to look behind."

Mytle? That stupid bint was still haunting the toilet? I vowed to exorcise her at my earliest convenience lest she direct more preteens into my most secret of chambers, but really this whole thing stunk of a Dumbledore plot. Or so I imagined since most of his plotting had been against the me that was older than sixteen. This raised an interesting conundrum, one I had been puzzling over during my yearlong possession of Ginevra; was I Lord Voldemort? Not literally because of course I was Lord Voldemort, but did I inherit his legacy? He'd made a lot of enemies I wanted nothing to do with and a lot of decisions even I had to question; despite them being my greatest fantasy.

A Dark Lord, cloaked in black with glowing red eyes who commanded an army of skull masked terrorists to overthrow a nation.

He was so cool. But he was so stupid. But he was so cool. And still so stupid.

Perhaps this was destiny, that I would be given a second chance at life, that I could learn from my future as though it was the past. I would become a Dark Lord even Voldemort would fear, and I would have a better name that wasn't French and I would be less cringey about the whole thing. Step one, if at some point I have to murder another baby for some reason I would watch from a safe distance as someone else did it for me with a hammer.

Yes, I decided. That potential iteration of myself was a disappointment and a fool and had shamed us.

"Congratulations, Potter, you live another day."Just to spite the other me. He deserved it for defying me and thinking French was a good choice of language. This time I would pick something truly intimidating that wasn't an anagram of my name, in perhaps Russian or possibly Sanskrit.

Besides, this meant I still had a chance at the Defence professorship. As I understood it Dumbledore had denied my other self's application due to a petty grudge he held against me, but now I was the Weasley girl and a Gryffindor; surely if I managed to get O's on all of my NEWTs again I would be a shoo in. I did so love Hogwarts, after all the only reason I opened the Chamber and set the Basilisk on mudbloods was because it was so much fun the first time around, and now I would get another six years here.

I smiled winsomely, because of course this was my plan all along and I would make sure to gloat about it to the other Voldemort when I saw him next. Assuming I saw him next. It was likely he had several other Horcruxes but I had no idea if they were separate entities or connected, perhaps my existence rendered me the Prime Voldemort? Something to test later.

I hid my diary within Slytherin's mouth, put my Basilisk to sleep, and collected Potter before strolling out of the Chamber. We soon came upon a cave in, and I glared reproachfully at Potter for daring to destroy any part of this place (I made a note to torment him later,) before Ginevra's simple brother started shouting and trying to peer through a gap in the rubble. He too was Imperiused and set to work repairing the tunnel along with Potter. Once the priceless historical and culturally significant tunnel was back in place we proceeded to the entrance where Professor Lockheart reclined in easy confidence on the grimy floor.

My eyes bulged, why was he here?! A man as dangerous as Lockheart would see straight through my hastily cast Imperius curses, and even now as he calculated my next action he still found he could lay in a position with so many openings?

"Hello," he drawled lazily, not deigning to even draw his wand. "Odd sort of place, this, isn't it? Do you live here?"

My wand was up and the incantation for the killing curse passing my lips before I could mediate my reaction, the curse taking him full in the face. Lockheart sighed and closed his eyes for the last time as my heart hammered in my chest like a Giant's drumming.

Thank god, he mustn't have seen through my disguise, and now I had a prop to include into my cover story; which had been my plan all along. Very excellent! I set about Obliviating Weasley and Potter and imbuing them with a set of false memories detailing Lockheart's valiance before hitting myself with a mix of the Confundus and reverse Cheering Charms.

Tears dripped off my chin as I bawled wretchedly.

In hindsight it was an incredibly intelligent move on my part, as I was too distracted by faux misery to notice we were sprung from the Chamber by Dumbledore's Pheonix (how it got into the Chamber I have no clue,) because if I had noticed what was going on it would have surely attacked in an instant, that insipid goose. It had always had it out for me for no reason, glaring and screeching whenever I went to the headmaster's office, but as it was we made it to McGonagall's office where I was beset by the equally vapid mother Weasley. After Potter spent some time weaving his tale (which expanded on his explanation to me) and recounting his false memories of Lockheart duelling with Voldemort's shade before a mutual kill; Dumbledore let slip some very valuable information.

Voldemort was hiding in a forest in Albania.

So now there _was_ two of us.

I of course kept up my Ginevra act flawlessly and when prompted gave some useless, stuttering explanation of losing track of what I was doing and waking up in the Chamber before I was sent away to the hospital wing, still accompanied by the wretched mother Weasley. I was beginning to regret my master plan, having failed to account for the girls large, and fairly worthless family. I would just have to strip them of their secret magics and spend as much time out of the house as possible, I supposed, merely treat it as a rest stop in between Hogwarts until I graduated and never had to see them again; unless it was to murder them for defying me in some fashion as those types of wizard were wont to do.

I smirked into my mug of hot chocolate as the last of my reverse Cheering Charm wore off, everything had gone exactly according to my design.


	2. Chapter 2

The pathetic Father Weasley immediately expended his collected worth in the space of an instant when he won a grand draw from the newspaper; luck was a thematic and expendable resource so it stood to reason Weasley Sr. wouldn't amount to anything for at least the next decade or so. This, however, played right into my hands so well I couldn't have hexed this result out of him better if I tried. Not that the money wasn't useful in and of itself, but I hadn't been to Egypt before.

We were to visit the only Weasley that had a respectable job and may have been worth something, despite his Muggle name, William Weasley who worked as a Curse Breaker and potential in for Goblin relations to my cause. In comparison to all of my holidays as Tom at the accursed Wool's Orphanage, it had been a pleasurable time. Not just Egypt and its myriad dark delights, but staying in a wizarding household, and pathetically destitute the family Weasley may have been they were still Pureblood; which meant both parents Weasley befuddled the Trace.

It was the first holiday I ever had where I could use magic.

It was surprisingly freeing, being Ginevra Weasley. Of course there was still a certain amount of banal conversation I was expected to participate in with her brothers and parents, a skill I had long learned as Tom, but otherwise I was left to my own devices to do more or less whatever I wanted. I made a mental note to gloat about this to the other Voldemort when I saw him next.

But, as all things that weren't entirely horrible were wont to do, the summer holiday passed and brought with it a much preferred term at Hogwarts. There was a brief surprise when one of the other me's Death Eaters broke out of Azkaban to kill Harry Potter, and I decided I may have to do something about that since I hadn't fully decided on whether or not I would be the one to kill Potter and I abhorred true competition; in matters like this at least. Committing murder wasn't meant to be a trial, that was why the killing curse had been invented, to take the unnecessary effort out of it.

When it came time to buy my new school supplies it became an ordeal involving every other Weasley in the house piling through the fireplace and coming out in the Leaky Cauldron, where we had rooms for the night. Incidentally, Potter was staying here as well because he had blown up his Muggle aunt in a fit of childish pique. Ah, to be young again. I had once caused one of my fellow orphans to go blind when they stole my pencil, he hadn't ever fully recovered.

I smiled at the memory, perhaps Potter wouldn't be so bad after all if this is what he did when on holiday. Ginevra's second hand account had been biased at best, which also led to my overestimating of Gilderoy Lockheart and his subsequent demise, from actually reading his books over the summer I had come to realise the man was an idiot; and if the same rule held for Potter he would be a miserable, cruel little worm who I could no doubt suborn even easier than I had done with the rest of the Weasley family.

I didn't have high hopes after the whole Chamber of Secrets debacle, but still.

Unfortunately Potter was out somewhere, causing the mother Weasley to drag us all on a hunt for the boy as we bought our own school supplies; all in second or third hand, just as mine as Tom had been. Which really was pathetic on the Weasley's part, I was a Knutless orphan and at least three of them had jobs on top of being wizards. Was it too hard to confund a muggle and exchange the money at Gringots? Or cast the summoning charm to hoover up loose change? Honestly, I'd be glad to be away from them and their inferior problem solving skills.

The rest of the shopping passed without real incident, save for the depressing trip to Madam Malkin's that forcefully reminded me of how much of a girl Ginevra's body was. I much preferred to be male, and though I wasn't really in a position to complain considering; it was pretty terrible. Ginevra was annoyingly short and skinny and frail. As Tom I had made sure to eat healthily and do my exercises, just another habit that made me better than every other student at Hogwarts, in order to maximise my potential and I fully intended to continue this as Ginevra. If fact, the only attribute that didn't displease me about Ginevra's body was that she was the cute sort of child you could tell would grow up to be an attractive adult, much as I had been as a young boy, and there was a certain edge being attractive gave you even if you didn't know how to leverage it. Not that I would be leveraging it, as Tom I had staunchly refused to flirtingly cajole homosexuals and I would continue that trend as Ginevra, in spirit if not letter.

I hoped the other Voldemort still shared my opinion, but he had turned himself into an hideous, but admirable, grotesquery and so clearly stopped having pride in his appearance. I understood though, he cut an intimidating figure. Mysterious and dangerous. Yes, and with red eyes; I resolved to learn whatever ritual he had done to achieve this effect and perform it for myself. Hopefully the red eyes wouldn't clash with my new hair.

Eventually we arrived back at The Leaky Cauldron without me hexing anyone out of sheer boredom and discovered our search for Potter was an absolute waste of my time as the boy was right where we started.

Ginevra's brothers greeted him, one properly which caused the twinned pair to go off on one of their trite comedy routines before custom dictated I give my greeting last; as both the 'youngest' and 'least magically powerful'.

"Hello, Harry," I said. Humble, demure even, thankful for his saving me.

He smiled, "hey Ginny, how are you?"

I could detect no malice, not a hint of ill intent behind his vacant eyes, and so immediately designated him as worthless beyond that I should probably murder him at some point if only for posterity's sake. I turned to something that was more interesting, if only marginally so.

I caught a flash of orange as Ronald's Muggleborn friend hoisted a cage.

"Where did you get that?"

The Muggleborn tucked a strand of its enormous hair behind its ear, "at the petshop just down the street, I'm so glad I bought him." She smiled and poked a finger through the cage front to tickle its nose. "He'd been in there for so long, the poor thing, no one wanted him."

I leaned in to get a closer look, I did like cats after all. They weren't snakes but there were worse animals.

"I can't see why, the thing is at least half Kneazle-"

The hybrid took this moment to throw a magnificent fit in its attempt to get as far away from me as it possibly could, hissing and spitting all the while. I recalled that Kneazles could detect untrustworthy people and resolved to drown the thing at my earliest convenience.

"I think it has brain problems," I told the girl as she tried impotently to calm it down.

"He's just overwhelmed, I suspect, he's not been around so many people before."

"No wonder it was so cheap," I continued, planting the seeds of doubt. "Nobody wants a broken Kneazle."

"He's not broken," she said defensively, despite having only known the thing for the better part of half an hour.

I shrugged carelessly, then realised I was still the girl. "Sorry, I didn't mean it. You're probably right, once you get him used to people again I'm sure he'll be the best cat ever."

She gave me another smile and dragged her soon to be dead cat up the stairs, leaving me with Ginevra's family and Potter.

I immediately left to go read my schoolbooks, as even the tedium of revising content I knew off by heart was better than their company.


End file.
